


Lost Halla

by MyrddinDerwydd



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Commitment, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, First Love, Fluff, Halla (Dragon Age), Loyalty, M/M, Magic, Platonic Relationships, Protective Siblings, Sexual Tension, Smut, Spells & Enchantment, Trust, Vallaslin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrddinDerwydd/pseuds/MyrddinDerwydd
Summary: Clan Lavellan has been destroyed by short-sighted shem’len, but Inquisitor Elisara Tarael Lavellan is not the sole survivor. This is the story of Keeper Hallenon Souren, a kind and gentle soul with rich brown skin and the writing of Ghilan'nain across his skin. He finds a place of merit and comfort with the Inquisition, yet surprises himself by discovering something new as well - romance and passion with a human from the dreaded Tevinter Imperium.This story takes place within my longer Solavellan work, A Long Hunt. Join me there to read more of Elisara and Solas!. If you’re reading it, chapters here are probably ahead of (and contain spoilers for) the chapters in A Long Hunt. The events of Lost Halla keep tugging at me though, so they are sometimes being written already. Enjoy!Thank you to both guests and AO3 members for the kudos so far! It's nice to know that someone other than me enjoys this.Writing Masterpost, organized by main character.





	1. Found

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Long Hunt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732032) by [MyrddinDerwydd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrddinDerwydd/pseuds/MyrddinDerwydd). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 Summary  
> Clan Lavellan has been destroyed by short-sighted shem’len, and Inquisitor Elisara Tarael Lavellan is distraught. It only gets worse when she sees her troops approaching with a Dalish halla in tow.
> 
> These events take place during chapter 5 of A Long Hunt - “I’m not most people.”
> 
> Elvhen Words & Phrases, based on the excellent work of FenxShiral:  
> shem'len - quick children, the Dalish term for anyone non-Dalish.  
> Tarasyl'an te'las - place where the sky is kept/held back. Old elven name for Skyhold.  
> da'lan - female child  
> mamae - mother  
> Terise - flint, fire stone. The name of Elisara's hart.  
> fenedhis - an elven curse, basically "fuck!"  
> 'ma falon - my friend. Only used with true friends, not a casual term.  
> Tuelanen enaste, tel'ame sasha. - Creator’s blessings, I am not alone.  
> Ir abelas - I'm sorry

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143491592@N04/37422416502/in/album-72157686585887511/)

Her stomach churned every time she saw another one of her people, especially of the few Dalish that had joined the Inquisition. Gone, and she could do nothing. The news had arrived by raven more than a week past, yet Inquisitor Elisara was still haunted by the contents of the missive. Clan Lavellan had been destroyed, the camp looted by bandits, aravels burned to the ground. The original message from the Duke of nearby Wycome had described the Dalish as “scattered or killed,” but the Inquisition scouts had found the ground littered with the bodies of her people. No one had been seen, though they searched the area for 2 days at her behest. She scowled. The sheer number and strength of ‘bandit’ groups that they were encountering was becoming suspicious.

Hardly anyone has spoken to me about it, she thought as she stared out over the river. She wasn’t even sure who knew, besides her advisors. Around the keep she’d recently heard it referred to as the Sky River or more rarely, the River Tarasyl. No one in her clan would ever see this ancient mountain stronghold that had once been the powerful elven fortress Tarasyl'an te'las, probably from before the rise of the Imperium. She’d devoured every fragment of information the scholars and Solas would give her on Skyhold, wishing that more of the original structure stood. So many pieces of their history - gone. So many elves that would never see another moonrise - her fault. The Inquisition scouts accompanying Josephine’s ambassador should be returning soon, and she had instructed them to bring anything left at the clan’s encampment that they feasibly could. It ached, to think that she would never hunt with them again, never see the aravel that she had slept in as a little da’lan, under her mamae’s watchful gaze. 

Drawing in a ragged breath, the cold air stung her throat. A group of riders entered the riverbank from out of the western pass, and her grieving heart twisted in agony as the graceful twisting horns of a dalish halla caught her gaze. 

“How is this possible?” She whispered, frozen in place. Too far away even for her keen eyes, she could tell nothing more than that it was a halla, not a hart. Ghilan'nain’s gift was treated with great honor and respect, and the horns of those halla who lived among a clan bore the work of years, reshaping and adorning them to honor the goddess. Elisara spun and stormed off of the battlements, headed toward the stable. If they had harmed one of her halla, they were going to rot in Fen’harel’s pisspot for a thousand generations. 

Her heavy coat flew out behind her as she vaulted the stone lip of the final landing, dropping a few fathoms and tucking into a roll as she hit the frozen ground. It barely altered her stride, and she snatched open the stall door for her hart - one of the only ones presently at Skyhold. Terise snuffled her broad nose against her chest, and she absently stroked the hart’s grey and red neck before swinging onto her bare back. At that moment, she was glad that Terise wasn’t a particularly talkative hart. She was quiet, intelligent, and a willing partner.

“Inquisitor?” Dennet’s face poked from the next stall over as she nudged Terise forward. They broke into a long, smooth trot, heading for the main gate out of Skyhold. 

“Inquisitor, is something wrong?” Blackwall’s deep voice, ringing out from the stable. “Elisara!” 

“I’ll be back shortly!” was all she could manage, calling back over her shoulder. The knot in her chest was equal parts anxiety and fury.

She saw one of the Nightingale’s people sprinting across the battlements into the tower, and Terise dodged a group of soldiers headed toward the eastern guard tower. Two figures broke away from a group near the sparring rings, and she briefly registered that Krem and Dalish were headed for her. The guards on the bridge had plenty of time to see her coming, register that she was the Inquisitor, and avoid being knocked down. 

“Hey boss! Where are we going?” Krem reached Terise’s flank as she turned down the wide path west of the gates. 

“We are finding out why they-” she pointed angrily at the group in the distance, “have a halla.” 

“Fenedhis!” Dalish spat the curse, much to Krem’s confusion.

“What’s wrong with having a halla?” Neither of them answered him.

The ground began to disappear rapidly as she asked the hart to run, her eyes fixed on her target. They were close enough that she could tell that no one was riding the halla, and that several people were on foot in addition to horsemen and a pack animal in the back. They passed several camps near the base of the waterfall, still unfrozen, and various soldiers called out in confused alarm. She ignored them all and kept at a steady, ground-eating pace. The two Chargers were a fair distance behind her, keeping their own slower speed. 

Golden braid flying behind her, barrelling toward them on a hart, she must have been quite a sight to behold. The lead rider had stopped the group, the young woman staring in awe at the avenging elven goddess headed their way. 

There were packs on the halla. No ropes pulled at its head though, and the deep, sonorous greeting of a bull halla rang out along the frozen River Tarasyl. She shifted her weight back, slowing their pace as Terise called out as well. Hope and confusion began to unknot the anger that had clenched her heart as she rode, but there was still not an ounce of sense to be made of the group that she approached. Humans, the halla, an elven scout that she knew grew up in Redcliffe’s alienage, the feathered cap marked Josephine’s emissary to the Duke no doubt - but she saw no explanations. 

“Inquisitor! Your Worship, how may we-” the young woman began nervously, her voice cracking as she was silenced by the elf’s sharp look.

“How in Ghilan'nain’s name do you have one of our halla?” Elisara’s voice rang out clear and hard, her heart still pounding. She swung her leg over Terise’s neck and slid to the ground, pushing away from her shoulders as the hart trotted to a halt. Her strides didn’t stop, carrying her through the confused scouts to the magnificent, unharmed white halla in the middle of the group.

“We found him yesterday your Worship, in the foothills.” Tumbling, confused, the woman’s words spilled over. “He was looking for Skyhold your Worship, so he joined us. Maker forgive me, did we do something wrong? We sent the last of of Sister Nightingale’s birds two days ago, and no new ones have returned so we kept going as ordered.”

She reached toward his massive jaw, hand open and flat. He huffed loudly in acknowledgement, and spoke. Well, she understood him anyway. 

{Greetings, halla friend.} 

He bumped his jaw gently against her back as she ran her hands down his muscled neck, still confused. She rumbled back at him, not caring who heard her.

{Are you well? Why are you with those-who-do-not-ask, mighty one?} 

Something seemed familiar about this halla, and about some of the packs on his back. 

{Yes Wild-Walker, there are good leaves in my bones. I am with a Keeper, not those-who-do-not-ask.} 

He knew her, must have been with her clan. But how? She stepped back from him in confusion, looking around. A voice called out from farther back in the group, and she forgot to breathe. 

“Elisara? Lethallan, is that you?” A warm, gentle voice heralded the brown-skinned elf that was quickly wending his way through the humans and horses.

It couldn’t be, she thought. He was dead, all of them were dead. It couldn’t be her father’s Second walking toward her, couldn’t be someone she had known her entire life. Tears trickled down her cheeks as he hesitated in the space that had cleared around them. 

{A Keeper.} The halla’s voice spoke firmly from behind her.

The elf before her gave a wry smile as he searched her eyes. A ragged breath later she nearly bowled Hallenon over in a desperate embrace. 

She thought I was killed as well, he thought, and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Oh, Mythal protect us. Elisara’s face was buried in his shoulder, sobbing quietly. 

Krem and Dalish caught up to them, with the elf glaring daggers at the humans surrounding the halla. “What did you do?” Dalish snapped at the luckless rider, her ‘bow with an aiming crystal’ crackling with ice. 

“Nothing! The Inquisitor came flying in yelling about the halla, and now she’s hugging the elf that we found looking for Skyhold yesterday!” The woman’s voice betrayed her confusion, but her awe was still evident.

“You found an elf in the Frostbacks?” Krem wondered out loud, quickly catching his breath after the charge down the mountain.

“The elf is from Clan Lavellan, Lara,” the emissary spoke up finally, his Orlesian accent faint but noticeable. “The Inquisitor thought that they had all been killed in the bandit attack 10 days ago.”

Dalish’s hand flew to her mouth, covering a horrified gasp. “Falon’Din guide them… I did not know.” 

Bless mercenaries and their sense of independence. Krem took charge, directing Lara and the rest of the group to continue onward to Skyhold. He pointed a short, strong finger at the emissary, “You will tell the next person from the keep exactly what is going on, since they just saw the Inquisitor come barrelling out here like a thunder storm.” His tone tolerated no nonsense, lips tight in disapproval. 

Hallenon gently rubbed Elisara’s shoulders as she cried, soothing words to still her fears. He was barely taller than she, but broad through the chest and unusually stocky for an elf. Dalish kept glancing at them anxiously, but she spoke to the halla asking him to move out of the way for the others to pass. There was no chance he’d continue with the humans alone, and she wouldn’t have asked him to anyway.

“How? The message said everyone was dead, they found no one. The camp was burned to ash.” Her voice was raw from crying when she finally spoke, but he could tell the worst had passed. Halla, elf, owl, he had comforted many creatures at various times. “Hallenon, how are you here?” 

She still had not let go of him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Long ago ‘ma falon taught me how not to be seen and how to hunt clumsy shem’len in the dark. I owe her my life.” That got a choked laugh from her, and she loosened her grip on him finally.

She rested her hand along his jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek as she stepped back. “Tuelanen enaste, tel’ame sasha.” Her voice broke on the words, because she truly did miss her clan, even with all its flaws. Hallenon was seven years younger than her, but tough and wiry enough that he had often roamed out with children of the clan much closer to receiving their vallaslin. A good friend, and a kind young man who had often looked up to her. They had not been particularly close as adults, mostly because of his close ties to Keeper Deshanna, a manipulative elf that she would not miss at all.

“Ir abelas Elisara, I was too late to save others.” Profound sorrow filled his rich voice, making her think of dark wood crying tears of sap. 

“The fault was mine Hallen, I should have acted sooner. Or more decisively, I don’t know.” She shook her head, tight lipped. Taking a deep breath and wiping half-frozen tears from her cheeks, she squared her shoulders. “There will be time to talk more. For now, I am just overjoyed to not be the only one left of our clan.” 

Glancing over at Dalish, who was reverently stroking the noble halla’s graceful neck and showering him with praise in elven, she smiled ruefully. “I’m also glad that I didn’t need to rescue a halla from stupid shem’len today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Elisara can communicate with a wide variety of animals. Read Chapter 2 of A Long Hunt to hear the whole story!


	2. Startled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 Summary  
> We pick up after Elisara’s rather adventuresome night in the Fade. She introduces Dorian and Hallenon, where sparks fly from magic and flirtation. An uncertain Hallen goes to his sister for advice.
> 
> Generally SFW, with mild romantic interludes.  
> These events take place during Chapter 5 "I'm not most people" and 6 “Songs that made the spirits weep” of A Long Hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven words & phrases, based on the excellent work of FenxShiral:  
> Dar'eth shiral - safe journey. A farewell.  
> Shem'len - Quick children. The dalish term for anyone non-dalish.  
> Savh - Hello, Hi, Hey (shortened form of savhalla)  
> 'Ma falon - My friend.  
> 'Ma serannas - thank you  
> Asa'ma'lin - sister, literally "her blood is mine"  
> Emma’lin re mar’lin? - My blood is your blood?  
> Vin. Mar’lin re emma’lin. - Yes. Your blood is my blood.  
> Ele esa'ma'lin. - We are siblings.  
> Tuelanen enaste tarsul var lethal. - Creators’ blessing upon our kin.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143491592@N04/37422416252/in/album-72157686585887511/)

It did not take Elisara long to find Hallenon, since he was still in the dilapidated room where she had left him last night. He had shoved everything into the portion of the room that had an intact roof, and was currently crouched in the rafters removing broken boards from the edge of the opening. She tilted her head curiously. He seemed to be removing a lot more of the boards than she would have expected. 

“Good morning Hallen. You seem to be making progress on the roof, but I certainly didn’t expect you to renovate the place. We have builders.”

“Why should I impose on them when I can accomplish the task myself?” He smiled broadly and dropped another board before jumping down lightly. “Why is no one currently using this chamber?”

She shrugged, “There is plenty of space elsewhere, and other repairs have higher priority… such as the outer walls. They would say that a tree growing through that wall has compromised the stonework as well, no doubt. I’m certain the stewards can find you another room if you’d rather, but no one is going to tell the Inquisitor that she can’t assign an unused room in her own keep.” 

Hallen smiled, straightening the tie holding back his dark brown hair. “This is fine, even if it feels like a shem’len house. Perhaps I can make the space useful again. You mentioned a meal and a chance to see the library for more than five minutes?”

“Of course.” She turned and stepped back out of the door, which was actually in wonderful shape. “There are several more people you should meet, even if you decide not to stay with the Inquisition.” 

He gave her an odd look as they made their way through a maze of balconies and staircases. “Do you think that I should leave? Am I mistaken that you are opposing the Circles of Magi and the chantry’s extreme behavior toward so-called apostate mages such as our Keepers?”

Elisara shook her head as they reached the door leading out into the main hall. “No, you are correct. I would avoid voicing that idea too loudly around Madame Vivienne though, she leads the mages that are still loyal to the Circles.” 

“The haughty, extremely powerful mage that controls the balcony? Perhaps I should find a different room.”

“She has not openly caused problems for Solas or the free mages, but she is very well-connected in the Orlesian Empire.” She sighed as they stepped out and headed toward Varric’s table. “We have managed to keep her on the Inquisition’s side for now, but that is unlikely to last long once the major threats are dealt with. Isn’t that right Varric?”

“We play nice with the Iron Lady, and she knows it. She plays for power, just not crazy Corypheus power. Good morning to you too, Inquisitor. Would you two elves care to join me for breakfast?” He had a fresh plate of food nestled among his papers, and a fair number of Skyhold’s people were picking up food from the serving table across the hall.

“Sure.” She tipped her head toward the table and Hallen followed her. “Sometimes I take advantage of the fact that the staff will deliver food to my quarters, but I often come pick up my meals just like everyone else.”

Hallen simply nodded thoughtfully, quietly following the Inquisitor through a hail of respectful greetings and food. He could feel the auras of a handful of mages. It was rather uncomfortable when combined with the large number of people pressed around him. Settling himself with a deep breath, he reminded himself that it was not as crowded as the human towns he had visited. The hall was less than a quarter full though, and he knew it would take time to accustom himself to the people if he remained here. 

No one bothered them once they returned to the dwarf’s place by the fire, for which Hallen was grateful. Varric was amiable and easy to talk to, allowing the meal to pass uneventfully filled with innocuous stories and mundane chatter.

Afterward they headed back into the rotunda through the door beside Varric. Solas was at his desk, and they traded polite, innocuous greetings as they crossed to the inner staircase for the tower. Elisara had picked up a small apple from the table downstairs, and she was idly tossing it from hand to hand as they entered the library. She held up a warning finger for silence and grinned mischievously. He sighed, a memory of waking suspended over a stream flashing through his mind. 

Dark boots with polished metallic buckles and plates came into view in the nearest alcove, the morning sun streaming in through a window. Someone walking past the stairs noticed them enter, and just shook their head in amusement. Elisara let out a short, sharp, whistle and immediately lobbed the apple into the alcove. 

There was a muffled thump, followed by a triumphant “Ha!” as the boots disappeared. “That’s two this week, you treacherous minx. I am not letting you break my nose-” the man’s tone changed dramatically as he saw Hallen accompanying the Inquisitor. “Well, well, who do we have here?” The speaker was dressed in an odd mix of soft brown leather, shimmering gold fabric, and highly polished metal decorative pieces. He smirked, drawing attention to an impeccably curled moustache. “You must be the Lavellan who arrived so dramatically yesterday afternoon.” 

Elisara caught the apple as Dorian threw it back, and she used it to gesture at the elf beside her. “Keeper Hallenon Souren, it is my pleasure to introduce the most horrid of my circle of friends, Master D-” 

“Dorian Pavus, scion of his illustrious house, most recently of the magnificent city of Minrathous.” He gave a small bow with a dramatic flourish before extending his hand in greeting.

This is the most bizarre thing that I have ever experienced, Hallen thought. He hesitantly clasped the man’s arm, blood racing, alert to any potential threat. The human’s aura swirled and flickered constantly, tied to minor enchantments on his clothing and belt, and he was strong. Not as powerful as Solas appeared to be, but at least as powerful as himself. He was casually being introduced to a mage of the Tevinter Imperium. “Inquisitor, are you aware this man is a mage?” 

Elisara laughed lightly, but Dorian’s dark eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How in Andraste’s holy name did you know that?” 

He hesitated, glancing cautiously between the two as they both watched him curiously. “Your aura. It is impossible not to notice.” Standing completely within the other man’s wild, flickering aura was unsettling on its own. 

“My what?” Dorian seemed honestly incredulous. “Elli, did you two plan this? Oh, yes, this is good.” He shook his hand at her, grinning appreciatively. “The two of you together are going to be more trouble than I can handle.” His eyes traveled up and down Hallenon’s form, openly looking him over. Quite strapping, gorgeous dark skin, strong shoulders- “Ahh, but maybe I’ll enjoy taking on the new arrival.” He winked playfully at the two elves.

Hallenon’s shoulders stiffened and his neck flushed at the casual treatment that he was receiving from the other mage. He caught the man’s gaze and held it firmly as he spoke, voice stern but quiet, as he would use on a da’lin misbehaving during a lesson. “This is no joking matter. If you have been misleading the Inquisition and placing their people at risk-” 

“Hallen, wait. Yes, I know Dorian is a mage,” she held out a placating hand as she placed herself partially between the two men, but her brows were furrowed in confusion. “No, Dorian, this was not a joke, my friend.” Seeing Hallen’s look darken slightly at the words, she continued. “Why did you think it so? Can you not also tell that Hallenon is a mage?”

“Of course not!” He gestured dramatically, the movement clearly exasperated. “Do you think we mages walk around with convenient labels for Templars to check? ‘No, not an apostate. Free to go. Yes, throw that one in a Circle.’ Absurd.” 

Elisara’s gesture stopped Hallen’s immediate response, and he searched the man’s eyes instead. How could he carry such a powerful aura and not feel the aura of the two other mages in the library at this very moment?

“No, this is something that sounds familiar even to me, Dorian. I had not thought of it many years, but my father spoke of finding children in the clan before they came into use of their abilities. He said they glowed, even when they were young. That is how our Keepers find mages among the people and teach them to protect themselves. Do your people not do the same?” 

“Either this is something incredible and new, or it is a truly elaborate joke.” The human looked both utterly fascinated and defeated. “I yield. Someone, please tell me what is going on.”

From behind Elisara, a fourth voice joined the conversation. Confident and feminine, she spoke with a mild Orlesian accent. “Perhaps I may be of some assistance in this matter, Inquisitor.” 

“Please do, Enchanter Fiona. I am quite at a loss.”

The short, dark-haired elf was the third mage that Hallen had felt, and she met his eyes squarely. Her face was bare of vallaslin, and she spoke as one accustomed to addressing others. “He cannot sense it at all, Keeper. Human mages have no awareness of even their own auras without explicit guidance from an elven mage. It is considered a rather sensitive topic by most, poorly understood and often implicitly ignored, even by elves. Most simply assume that their human counterparts sense auras much as we do, and never know that a difference exists.”

“That is incredibly enlightening, Enchanter. I doubt that I have had the opportunity to discover such a difference before now.” Hallen looked thoughtful, noticing that the woman’s aura was steady and controlled. It appeared noticeably weaker than his own, but that could be misleading on someone who was adept. She was still a powerful mage, even if the extent of her aura was accurate. His eyes flicked back to Dorian as she spoke to him. A delighted smile was slowly replacing the agitation on his face.

“Master Pavus, elven mages can inherently see and feel an aura of energy surrounding any mage they encounter. Its strength and characteristics vary quite dramatically, even fluctuating based on how exhausted the mage’s mana supply is. One practiced in reading these auras can even gain insight into which schools of magic are most strongly favored by the mage.” She gave him a small, apologetic smile. “Given the Imperium’s relationship with our people, your lack of knowledge is quite understandable.” 

“Fantastic! I absolutely wish to learn more, if one of you is willing to teach me.” His elation momentarily gave way to chagrin, and he reached toward Hallenon in apology. “Please accept my apologies Keeper, and I pray you do not judge me too harshly by this awkward meeting. Trust me, it could have been worse.” 

The hand gripping his shoulder was strong, and the elf did not feel nearly as unsettled as before. His shoulders relaxed slightly beneath the earnest gaze of the human, and he nodded in reply. “That sounds as though you have a rather specific ‘worse’ in mind.” 

“Oh, yes.” Dorian replied. “My former mentor was the magister warping the fabric of time in Redcliffe, so my first meeting with our dear Inquisitor was rather more complicated.” 

The elf’s eyebrow rose in surprise. “I see.”

Elisara stepped back from the two men to stand beside Fiona, speaking quietly. “Thank you for the timely intervention. Hallenon is the only survivor from the recent attack on my clan. He has little direct experience with the Circles, but I expect that you will find him a kind and knowledgeable ally.” 

“Allow me to give my condolences on the loss of your clan, Inquisitor. I spoke out of respect, not knowledge, but he is the Keeper of Clan Lavellan then?” Elisara nodded. “Will he be remaining with the Inquisition, or rejoining the Dalish elsewhere?” 

“He has not decided, but I suspect he will remain with us.” Elisara glanced shrewdly from Fiona to the two men, who were chatting cautiously but amiably. “Perhaps, between the three of you we will gain a greater understanding of the different ways magic is treated across Thedas?” 

“An ambitious goal, to be sure.” The Enchanter smiled. “Let us start with being certain that nothing will explode if a Dalish Keeper, a Tevinter Altus, A First Enchanter, and a former Grand Enchanter remain in the same building for more than a day.”

\---

Hallenon was leaning against the outer wall of the library alcoves full of bookshelves, brow furrowed slightly as he read. The book was ‘Patterns Within Form’, written by the First Enchanter of Starkhaven, and what he had learned of the Templar Order was disheartening so far. The Dalish simply avoided Templars entirely, and he felt his lack of knowledge keenly among so many Circle mages. 

His stomach twisted a bit in unease as he read again of the Order’s preference for “...soldiers with religious fervor and absolute loyalty over paragons of virtue who might question orders when it comes time to make difficult choices.” There were a fair number of Templars in the Inquisition, not to mention Commander Cullen and Seeker Cassandra. Were they also ‘loyal soldiers,’ or were the leaders more reasonable people? It seemed that it must be so, given that Elisara had effectively absorbed the mage rebellion into the Inquisition. He shook his head and continued reading.

A long sleeveless tunic in deep forest green, a dark brown high-collared jacket on a nearby chair. Dorian had thought Elisara particularly Dalish, especially with her love of the wild places of Thedas, but Keeper Hallenon took it to another level entirely. The man looked like a tree made flesh, with his earthy skin tone and piercing gaze. He lounged against the corner of the bookshelf framing the alcove as he considered the mage that had joined them less than a fortnight ago. From the few conversations they had so far, he seemed far less aloof than Solas and had at least a passing interest in magical theory. 

The corner of his mouth turned up in an appreciative smirk as he enjoyed the nice view of elf’s muscled ass and thighs that was afforded by the split of the tunic at his waist. Hallenon was also attractive, though his features were rather solid, with hard planes. He’d overheard no fewer than five conversations on the topic so far. Dorian pushed away from the bookshelf he’d been leaning against and covered the few strides that separated them. He’d come into this alcove for a tome, and the desired volume was directly in front of the other mage. 

Hallen felt Dorian coming as he strode toward him, the man’s magical aura powerful and unique among the mages he had met. It was still quite disconcerting to be near such a large number of mages, particularly given that nearly two-thirds of them - the humans - had absolutely no awareness of their auras at all. Another fascinating discovery that he planned to continue exploring, if possible. He looked up from the book as Dorian stopped directly next to him, well within arm’s reach. The golden veilfire torches were already lit, and the light played across the various buckles and decorations on Dorian’s clothing. Why did his heart speed its pace whenever the man was near? He had quickly gotten over the fact that he hailed from Tevinter, as Elisara seemed to trust him completely. His own raw magical strength was at least equal to the human’s, so he did not fear him on some primal level. So why? 

“Good morning, Dorian.” He straightened smoothly, tucking a finger into the book to mark his place. “It seems that we both rise with the sun.” 

“Hmm, perhaps it contributes to our sunny dispositions.” His smile widened in delight as the elf laughed, a deep, welcoming sound that made him think of chocolate truffles. Delicious and smooth.

“I find little joy in the content of this book, that is a certainty. Hopefully you seek something better.” Dorian’s eyes were grey, he noticed, not brown as he had expected. Lighter than his own though. Why was he paying attention to this? Did he normally notice the color of people’s eyes? 

Dorian reached out and tilted the cover of the book toward himself, “Not likely I’m afraid, ancient Tevinter was more brutal than most Templars, and was part of creating the Order as well.” 

“Ah. Researching the corrupted magister then.” 

“Horrible things from my homeland, the primer course.” His smile twisted with a touch of bitterness. “You’re holding my book hostage, in fact.” Dorian leaned forward, scanning the far edge of the bookshelf. His mostly bare arm pressed lightly against the elf’s as he did so, and he just caught himself before a sound of pleasure escaped his lips. He saw Hallenon’s sharp intake of breath from the corner of his eye.

“Ah… hmm,” was the elf’s incoherent response, eyes widening slightly. He was frozen in place, but his body temperature was rising. Thick, raven-black hair, golden skin, a sharp spicy scent mixed with jasmine flower. His senses seemed obsessed with Dorian.

“Here it is.” Pulling the book off of the shelf, he turned without stepping back from Hallenon. Mossy rocks, oiled wood, he even smelled Dalish… a very attractive and masculine dalish elf. He searched the man’s expression for any hint of anger or discomfort, but saw something more pleasant instead. Desire, shot through with a large serving of confusion. Worth the risk, he thought, a slightly dangerous edge touching his charming smile. 

Taller than himself by nearly a hand's breadth, Hallen found himself in the odd position of looking up at another man from close proximity, but feeling no threat or unease from him. Many humans were at least mildly uneasy around one of the People, and many men of his clan had been shorter or equal in height. He enjoyed it, he realized with a start. They had also been openly staring at each other for a long moment, and he did not understand why.

Dorian pulled his gaze away, then leaned toward him slightly before pressing a light, lingering kiss to the elf’s cheek, near the back of his jaw. His nose nearly brushed the line of his ear, and he stopped himself from doing just that. Finally stepping away felt like pulling two magnets apart.

“Enjoy your day, Hallenon.” He felt the elf’s eyes follow him as he walked back to his chair on the other side of the library.

He did watch the human mage saunter around the library balcony, finally giving himself a mental shake when the man actually sat down, legs stretched out before him. “I need some fresh air,” he muttered to himself. Tucking a narrow ribbon of cloth into the book to mark his place, he reshelved it and pulled on his jacket before slipping out of the door. He padded silently across Madame Vivienne’s balcony overlooking the main hall and was sitting on the stone railing near their rooms a few moments later. 

The sound of birdsong and the scent of the apple trees worked wonders for calming his mind, but he was not much closer to understanding his reaction to Master Pavus. Dorian was flirting with him, which he supposed made sense even if it was surprising. He vaguely recalled one or two clan mates paying him particular attention during his changing years, shortly before receiving his vallaslin. His interest in them had extended no further than companionship, and he had not felt this type of physical reaction even when Ny’ari had tried quite thoroughly to convince him to mate with her. 

Years later, Terys had been insulted that Hallen not wished to join him at night while they were scouting an old elven ruin. The man was of an age with him, and knew of his lacking interest in the women who had sought his attention before. He had never felt any level of physical attraction to either person, though he and Terys remained close friends until his death. Was this how they had felt toward him? What had changed?

In the garden below, a familiar elf appeared suddenly amongst the six large planters of herbs. Perhaps Elisara could help him untangle of his rattled senses. She was now the only family he had, but he had always thought of her as a sister. Laughing softly to himself, he recalled the disastrous time that Keeper Deshanna had tried to pressure him into pursuing Elisara. That he loved her was simple fact, but the idea of partnering with her and fathering children at the manipulative behest of the Keeper was abhorrent. He had always been acutely aware that there were different ways to love someone. Hopefully Elisara would find a lover and partner that was better than those she had dealt with in the past. 

There were few people in the garden at this hour, when most were taking their first meal of the day. He did see one wide-eyed man who had been startled by his sudden appearance from the rooftop. Elisara’s hand snapped to a set of throwing daggers on her belt, her eyes tracking to him the instant his feet hit the ground a few fathoms away from her. She smiled when she recognized him though, shaking her head as she re-sheathed the dagger. 

“Savh.” She laughed lightly. “Sometimes you just have to jump off the roof, right?” 

“It is a fairly novel experience for me, there are far more roofs here than usual. Cliffs and trees are much more typical, as well you know.” He smiled, joining her among the plants as she tended to the last one. His hands were tucked into the deep, wide pockets on the front of his jacket. It was a thin, dense brown wool, woven with patterns in darker brown that reflected the swirling horns of halla - much as the vallaslin of Ghilan'nain on his skin. It had been a gift from his mother a few years ago. She had been the halla keeper for clan Lavellan. 

Elisara whispered a last few sounds to the rich purple leaves of the royal elfroot and brushed a bit of soil off her hands as she stood. “Did you wish my help with something Hallen? Or just a bit of company before Skyhold bustles with activity?”

“Perhaps both.” A slight crease showed on his forehead as he thought about Dorian again. “If you have time, there is a personal matter I would like to ask you about.” He was blushing slightly, and was glad that it probably didn’t show on his dark skin. 

She glanced up at the sun and nodded. “Would you like an apple?” 

“No, I do not think I can eat just yet.” A moment later she was halfway up the nearest fruiting tree.

Biting into the apple after her feet touched down again, she briefly studied the unsettled elf standing before her. Something has happened, she thought. Hallen is one of the steadiest people I’ve ever known, but he is nervous. Uncertain. 

“Let’s sit.” She let him to a vacant bench near the far wall, tucked among the bushes near the small pavilion.

She raised an eyebrow in question after he sat silently for a long moment. “Hallen, what is wrong? Is someone bothering you?” 

“No. Well, yes but not as you meant.” He let out a nervous laugh and shook his head. “If this is normal, it is no wonder people behave ridiculously around someone they are attracted to.”

Elisara froze for a moment, her teeth biting partway into the apple. She aborted the bite and licked the juice from her lips. “Hallen, please tell me that you are not talking about me.” He met her eyes immediately, surprised, and shook his head. Her shoulders relaxed. “Good. We’ve been through that before, quite dramatically. I love you as a brother, ‘ma falon. Always.” 

“It is good to hear you say so, Elli.” Hallen smiled fondly at the older elf. It had always been a relief that they both spoke with straight arrows to each other. No second guessing, no uncomfortable secrets. “You know that I have never truly felt attracted to anyone, never sought out a lover or a partner.” She nodded, biting into her apple again. “I cared deeply for many people, mostly among our clan. I am no da’len, young and innocent, but in twenty-eight years I have never felt this way. I was perfectly content as I was. What does it mean? Is this chaos normal?” 

He was rambling a bit, his eyes never settling in one place. That was also abnormal for him, and she tilted her head to the side, like a curious bird. “Are you attracted to someone here or not?”

“How do I know something that I have never felt before?” His light brown eyes stared into the distance, and he looked slightly lost.

“All right, then who are you possibly attracted to?” 

A small smile turned up the corners of Hallen’s mouth, his whole demeanor shifting the moment he thought about the other mage. Oh my, Elisara thought. Someone really has caught his attention.

“It is such an unlikely match. Perhaps I am simply mistaken entirely. Cultural differences, misinterpretations.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She continued despite the look of confusion on his face. “Even if you did misinterpret their actions, you clearly feel strongly about this person, potentially in a way that you never have before. You will have to deal with that either way.” 

He nodded, the smile playing over his lips again. “True.” 

“Pick one. Who are they, or what do you feel?” She and Solas had probably spent months dancing around their feelings for each other, but they were entirely different people. Hallen needed to figure out the basics before deciding whether or not to act on his emotions.

“Dorian.” His voice was quiet, but his heart beat a bit faster. “Ever since you introduced us I have felt differently toward him than anyone else. Then this morning…” Sighing as he trailed off, he sat back against the bench and glanced over at Elisara. 

She was grinning widely, failing to hide it with a hand to her lips. The dramatic look he gave her broke her composure completely and she started laughing, though she managed to keep it quiet enough to not attract attention from the the few people filtering into the garden. 

“Truly? Is it so absurd? This all makes no sense to me.” His lips tightened in frustration, but Elisara’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from saying anything further.

“No, forgive me, it is not absurd. Beautifully ironic, but not absurd.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth, but she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “Hallen, are you certain that you are interested in Dorian romantically? Physically? Or only as a friend?” She was confident of the answer based on his behavior, but he needed to decide for himself.

Sighing out a long breath felt good. He had been right to come to her for advice. “He is a powerful mage, and does not shirk from harsh truths about his people, both of which are traits I admire. He is passionate about helping your Inquisition, and has a keener wit than I. As he is your friend, I am confident that I would enjoy working with him either way… but if I felt this way about all of our friends we would never accomplish anything. His touch, his nearness - it is distracting, and I think about him far too often.” The smile was back. “He seems quite aware of how attractive he is, and…” He hesitated a moment. “He uses it against me, I would swear to it. I think he likes the attention.”

“So you think that he has noticed your interest. What did you do?”

“He kissed me, here,” he tapped the side of his jaw, “this morning in the library. I did not do anything. Besides watching him, perhaps.” Now it was his turn to grin. “I fear that my reactions to his presence give me away. In truth I believe he thought me quite wary of him in the beginning, and he was not wrong. His actions align with your judgement of him though, and I see no reason to hate him for his race or his homeland.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did flirt with you despite your rather chaotic first meeting. He seems to enjoy flirting openly with everyone, including me, so it is also possible he is teasing you if he has noticed you're attracted to him.” 

“Am I stepping into the middle of something? Do you know?”

“If you are, it is nothing serious.” She paused a moment in thought. “No, I honestly think he would have told me if there was someone he was interested in. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear from him regarding you, actually. Particularly since he kissed you this morning.”

Hallen nodded thoughtfully. “I think that the short answer is that yes, I am attracted to Dorian physically and romantically, as well as in friendship.” He sighed. “All of which probably means that everything I have been feeling in reaction to him is normal.” His eyes flicked to hers as she patted his shoulder in confirmation. “Is it normal to remember small things about them that you would never notice on someone else? Such as smelling faintly of spices and jasmine?”

She laughed hard at that, her head falling forward to rest on his shoulder. “Oh, yes.” She nodded. “With Solas it is leather books and dry leaves.” Her eyes snapped back up to Hallen’s. “Don’t share that around please. Not everyone knows.”

“Not everyone knows how Solas smells?” She gave him a flat look. “Ah. You are much less flamboyant than Dorian, as is Solas, so I am not surprised that you do not wish your affection to be widely known.” 

“ ‘Ma serannas.” She sighed, fixing him with a thoughtful look. “Do what feels right for you. You’ll find out what works if this leads to anything more serious than flirting. Just don't lie to yourself about how you feel, Hallen. In a way, that is worse than lying to him, and it will still hurt you both.”

He took a deep breath, absorbing what she had said. Sound advice under any circumstances, but particularly these. “Enaste.” His voice was rough with emotion as he pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her as they sat on the bench. “You are a blessing Elisara. I could not ask for better advice, for a better friend. You are truly asa'ma'lin to me.” 

“Same.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as she hugged him back. “I am glad that you came to me for advice, Hallen. I will always be there for you.”

He hugged her tighter for a quick moment, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as he sat back. 

Above them, Dorian stood in the doorway of his room. He was out of range to hear their quiet words, but he could see the closeness the two elves clearly shared. His heart had been slowly sinking as he watched, sipping a cup of dark tea. Now he felt the fool, with the reason for Hallenon’s confusion staring him so plainly in the face. Why had Elisara not told him? Was this a new development? An old lover? She and Solas, that he would have guessed. Clearly she did not share as much with him as he thought. 

Brilliant. His day had fallen from cheery flirting with a handsome mage down to losing to a lovely woman yet again. He was an enjoyable dalliance or a non-entity, nothing more. He sighed dramatically. They were embracing each other now - Uggh. A sound of frustration worthy of Cassandra escaped his lips. He couldn’t watch this. Normally he would have smiled to himself and enjoyed the show, but instead he turned and took his tea back into the library.

As Elisara sat back from Hallen she thought of an old tradition between some warrior groups that held a strong kinship with one another. ‘Emma’lin Re Mar’lin - My blood is your blood.’ It was something that she had considered before, and Hallen knew of it as well, but it had not seemed to matter as much back then. Back when his parents were alive, and they had the entire clan around them. Now the only family they each had was each other. That bond meant a lot to her, and she knew it did to him as well.

She reached back and tugged out one of her throwing knives. She held the hilt toward Hallen, holding it next to her open right hand. 

“Emma’lin re mar’lin?” Elisara asked, holding his gaze. 

He blinked, momentarily startled by the blade. Recognition dawned at the words, and he nodded solemnly to her as he took the knife. “Vin. Mar’lin re emma’lin.” He held her hand firmly, feeling the calluses on her fingers as he drew the tip of the blade across the heel of her hand. A thin line of blood welled up as he passed the knife back.

“Emma’lin re mar’lin?” Hallen held out his left hand, palm up.

“Vin. Mar’lin re emma’lin.” She took the knife in her left hand, a drop of blood trickling across her skin as she held his hand. His palm soon matched her own.

She lay the knife down on her lap and extended her hand next to his. They were both smiling, and Elisara knew she had made the right decision. Clasping their hands together firmly, the cuts stung as they met.

“Ele esa'ma'lin.” They spoke as one. “Tuelanen enaste tarsul var lethal.”

“I hope the Creators watch over all of us, my sister.” Hallenon said after a moment. A word and a swift gesture from the mage left the cuts as pale lines across their palms. Elisara smiled at his words, then stood and wiped the knife on the grass before tucking it away.

“Good luck with Dorian, Hallen. I need to go before someone comes hunting for me.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Although sometimes that’s entertaining as well.” 

They both chuckled as she strode back into the keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to read more about Elisara & Solas? Check out A Long Hunt.


	3. Following

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallen decides to follow Dorian’s lead, and the two mages also explore the issues of auras again. 
> 
> Generally SFW, with romantic interludes.  
> These events take place during Chapter 6 “Songs that made the spirits weep” of A Long Hunt.
> 
> Special thanks to DAFan7711 for beta-reading this!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven words & phrases are all explained in the text, and are based on the excellent work of FenxShiral.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143491592@N04/23601542368/in/album-72157686585887511/)

When Hallen returned to the library in the early afternoon, he felt much more at ease with the situation. He even had the faintest beginnings of a plan for what to do regarding his affection toward the other mage. An uncertain, heady thrill ran through him every time he thought about it. Since he had so little experience in such endeavors as flirting, kissing, and caressing, he would follow Dorian’s lead. A less than chaste kiss on the cheek? He could do that. Sideways compliments? He could try that too, although he had not the skill to keep pace with the sharp words that Dorian and Elisara bantered about. Perhaps they could also discuss the issue of auras more in depth… they had only briefly spoken of the matter since their first meeting.

He heard Dorian’s voice as soon as he opened the door into the library, and he sounded in a foul mood.

"All these 'gifts' to the Inquisition and the best they can do is the _Malefica Imperio?”_ Scorn and frustration bled from the man’s voice, and he knocked a book off of the table.

“Master Pavus!” An unfortunate scribe bore the brunt of Dorian’s ire, and was rather distressed by the treatment of the book, which had joined several others scattered along the floor. “Please stop this at once!”

“Trite propaganda.” Dorian smirked in superiority, pacing back and forth with one hand balled into a fist on his hip. “But if you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Sunday, this is evidently the place to find it." He grabbed a handful of matching books from the table and nearly threw the stack directly at the hapless young man, whose eyes went wide and stumbled backward from the onslaught.

The books never landed. They were caught in a dark green sphere of magic that brushed the shocked scribe’s chest.

“Why are you abusing the books, Dorian?” Hallenon’s hand was extended toward the inverted barrier, moving it toward the table as he strode calmly toward the confrontation.

Dorian was glaring at the barrier with a mix of interest and petulant anger. “Because they are useless kaffas!” Another irritated slash of his hand accompanied the statement. “I know that the records exist! There are volumes on the Ancient history of the Imperium, particularly on such topics as who the ruling magisters were!”

Once the spell dissipated, the scribe shot Hallen a grateful look and gathered the maligned books as quickly as possible.

“Yet none of those books are here. Only inane drivel. Surely there are at least libraries in Orlais that contain actual research on my homeland.” Dorian was completely focused on Hallenon, allowing the scribe to escape unscathed.

He picked up a stray volume on the floor as he closed the distance between them, smiling slightly. He admired the power in the man’s movements, the intensity in his smooth voice. Dorian was behaving rather stupidly at that moment, but he still looked fabulous.

Thud.

Hallenon planted the book in the middle of Dorian’s chest, his voice low and intense. “Good.”

Dorian’s breath puffed out in a short huff when the book hit him, and he appeared so startled by Hallenon’s actions that he didn’t even move. He held Dorian’s eyes intently, gaze boring into him.

“At least you know the records still exist, unlike those of my people.” The shock and guilt were clear in Dorian’s smoky eyes, and he was close enough to feel the heat of his golden skin.

“You should put these books away,” he continued, “while I go collect a few requisition forms from the quartermaster.” He leaned toward Dorian, pressing the book against him slightly harder. The mage’s skin was smooth and firm under his lips as he kissed his jaw, in just the same place Dorian had kissed him that morning. His nose brushed against his cheek as he stepped back, flashing a quick smile. “We will find what you need.”

 

Dorian barely caught the book as Hallenon turned and walked out of the library. He felt the mage’s sudden absence acutely, felt the ghost of his lips pressing against his cheek, and the thrill of arousal that had shot through him held him hostage for a moment.

“What just happened?” He whispered.

“Serah? May I have the book please?”

He turned with a start at the scribe’s voice, and glanced down at the book he was still clutching. Kaffas. He inhaled sharply, handing over the offending tome.

“My sincerest apologies Farenne, absolutely none of this was your fault.” The Marcher nodded in reply, still looking slightly rattled.

“Have you taken a break for the afternoon meal?” A small shake of his head, no.

“Good. No one else is here at the moment, thank the Maker, and you should go enjoy a long break. Come back in, say, two hours. If anyone asks, tell them you are on an errand for me.” An affirmative nod, and Farenne tentatively backed away to reshelve the book.

Dorian sat in his chair, chin resting on his hand in thought, rings glittering in the light of the veilfire torch. He cringed slightly at the thought of Leliana and Solas hearing his academic tantrum. Ah, such is life.

When Hallenon returned a quarter of an hour later, Helisima was back at her desk and examining a piece of snouffler hide, and Dorian had a solid mental list of a dozen books that he intended to request. He definitely needed a copy of the _Liberalum_ \- it was probably his best shot at finding out what sort of grasping ankle-biter Corypheus had truly been. There were a few works by Brother Genitivi here at Skyhold, but not what he needed. The Fereldan was remarkably thorough and sensible for a Chantry scholar. Entertaining chap as well.

He had also firmly decided that he would be an unconscionably horrid person if he embroiled himself in between his closest friend and her lover. Surely there was a misunderstanding hidden somewhere.

“I owe you an apology, Hallenon.” He leapt from the chair as the elf came into view, holding a loosely rolled sheaf of papers.

“Accepted,” Hallenon said with an easy smile.

“It was unworthy of me to-” he blinked, startled at the quick response. “Well. Ah, you don’t have to be quite so forgiving when I’m being an ass, you know.”

“No, I do not. Honestly Dorian, you were less volatile when we first met, and you thought that the Inquisitor and I were deceiving you regarding auras.” The elf’s voice was even and smooth, rolling out like a quiet river that could sweep you away. He lay the requisition forms on the table. “What happened to the jaunty mood I found you in just this morning?”

“Do you always leap so keenly to the heart of a matter? It is quite uncanny.” He shifted slightly under Hallenon’s gaze. “Can we talk about this later? I give you my solemn word that no more books will be harmed this day.”

“So shall it be.” He pulled out a chair and sat, every move solid and precise. “Begin with the…” he ran a finger down the form and quoted the text, “relevance of your request, explicitly stating the reason by which the endeavors of the Inquisition will be improved by the acquisition of the desired materials.”

Dorian sat warily in the other chair. “Truly, you do not need to do this. Why are you even helping me after that childish display of petulant arrogance?”

Hallenon glanced away from the probing look, drawing a quill and inkwell over from the far side of the table. “Would you rather that I leave?” His voice was softer than before, a hint of uncertainty creeping in.

“No, not at all. I typically find your company quite enjoyable.” A bit of Dorian’s normal playfulness crept back into his voice, as did a slight smile. “I honestly expected a lecture, not…” his mind flicked back to the kiss, momentarily derailing his train of thought, “not friendly assistance. Perhaps I simply haven’t figured you out yet.”

“Let us settle your Tevinter research first, then we can talk about ‘figuring each other out’. ” The emphasis did not go unnoticed.

“Did you just sass me?” He was both incredulous and intrigued, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.

Hallenon straightened the requisition forms, eyes smiling as he read the line again. “The relevance of your request, explicit-”

Dorian’s chuckle interrupted him. “Touché.”

 

The window was darkened and the forms had long since been completed and whisked away by Helisima, who noticed them on her way to dinner. He sat on the floor, legs stretched out beside Dorian’s chair. His long coat was draped over a chair at the table, and the simple brown pants and leather boots he wore no longer seemed quite so sharp a contrast to the fine cream shirt and tan accents of the Tevinter mage’s clothing.

At the moment, Dorian was leaning forward and animatedly attempting to explain the ‘veil warping’ technique that he and Solas had recently discussed. It was the second attempt, and Hallen simply couldn’t follow the terminology accompanying the description without seeing the magic at work. It was one of the first challenges they had encountered in discussing magic: They used rather different vocabulary. Since they also specialized in opposite schools of magic, creation and entropy, the potential for chaos nearly equalled the potential for knowledge. At least they overlapped partially in discussions of primal magic.

Hallen’s stomach growled loudly, startling him out of his idle contemplation of Dorian’s hands as he gestured.

Dorian laughed immediately, glancing to the dark window. “Gracious, the hour is rather later than I thought.”

“Time well spent. However, it was less wise of me to skip an entire day’s worth of meals.” He pulled in his feet and stood. “Shall we go eat?”

Dorian stood as well, but gave him a wry grin. “I have a cold meal in my quarters by this point, no doubt. I’m sure the servants will bring us more though.”

“Do they bring your meals regularly?”

“Don’t give me that look.” He crossed his arms as the elf raised an eyebrow, managing to look down at him in mild disapproval despite his shorter height.

“Yes, that is the same look Elisara gives me just before she rolls her eyes and calls me a pampered little ishaor.” He shook his head in exasperation, his grin returning as Hallen laughed heartily.

“Made her tell me what it meant, too. For shame, a fine specimen such as I could never be a mere sheep.”

“No, you are at least dahabana, with all of your preening and sparkle.”

“Ah, the woodsy Keeper does pay attention to the finer things in life.” Dorian winked at him, but then flinched, a look of guilt flashing over his face. He followed it with a mild scowl. “Wait, what is a dah habanna?”

“I will tell you over dinner.” He hesitated a moment, debating the wisdom of his train of thought. “Can they bring the meals to my room instead? I would like to show you how the renovations have turned out.”

Dorian paused a moment as well, crossing his arms over his chest. “All right. But we really do need to talk about… today.”

“Agreed.” He inclined his head toward the other man. “Meet me there in a quarter of an hour?”

“Aye.”

As Dorian headed downstairs toward the kitchens, Hallenon leaned over the railing, looking down into Solas’s rotunda. Surprisingly, the Fade expert was absent, and several of the veilfire torches had been extinguished. He heard Sister Leliana’s voice calling down from the rookery and glanced up in surprise.

“Solas and the Inquisitor left on an urgent mission this afternoon, Keeper Hallenon.” The spymaster’s Orlesian accent was similar to Enchanter Fiona’s, but with a keen edge. She was much more intimidating as well, with her astute face shadowed, forearms resting casually on the balcony railing far above him. “She requested that the Ambassador or I pass along the message, along with her regrets at leaving on such short notice.”

“You have my thanks, Sister Leliana. Is their task such that you can tell me its purpose?”

“It is not the strangest request that I have heard, but it is certainly rare enough to stand out.” She shook her head slightly. “They are attempting to rescue a spirit that has been captured by mages. Solas considers it a close friend, and it called out to him from the Fade. I confess that I am doubtful that they can succeed, but the Inquisitor was nearly as distraught as Solas.”

“Thank you.” A dark shadow of worry had furrowed his brow as Leliana spoke. “I know well why this matter would greatly upset my sister.” He sighed. “I wish them well in their task… it will be a challenging one. Good evening, Sister Leliana.”

She nodded in reply, and Hallenon left for his quarters through the library door. Once there, he draped his coat over the desk chair and left the door open behind him as he used a flicker of magic to light a low brazier for warmth. The grounds of Skyhold were much milder than the surrounding mountains, but the air and stone still had the chill of early spring.

“Why, this barely looks like a bedroom at all.” Dorian’s honeyed voice rang out from the doorway a few minutes later. “I’m not sure whether to call it a salon or a grove, which I suspect is quite intentional.”

A desk and chair sat beneath one pair of narrow windows, occupying the space just behind the door. Beside that a heavy wooden bed and dresser were tucked into the corner against the wall. A recently repaired bookshelf in the corner stood nearly empty. The remainder of the room was quite unusual, as a bushy tree filled the far corner beside the dresser, partially obscuring two more windows. Several simple, well-worn rugs were placed underneath, perhaps for seating. The near wall held a long table with three mismatched chairs and two wooden stools tucked underneath.

He watched as Dorian strolled around, taking it all in.

“Why all of this extra effort?” Dorian asked, shaking his head in amusement. “You don’t seem the type to host wild parties in your room.”

“An astute observation, as usual. If I am to remain with the Inquisition among so many with magical talent, one of the ways I can be useful is to teach. Some secrets are not meant to be shared outside of the People, but a Keeper’s role is to teach as much as it is to protect. The mages seem to have no space of their own, and I intend to allow them to use this space freely, if I can gain their trust.”

“Good for you! Vivienne will get a bee up her skirts about it, but Fiona will no doubt appreciate the gesture. She truly has followed a unique path through life. Wonderful woman.” Dorian nodded approvingly, glancing at a small pile of journals on the bookshelf.

He looked up then, knocking into a chair as he suddenly stepped backward. “How did you? That is exquisite!” Dorian shook his head in awe and delight, craning his neck as he stared up through the open column of the stone tower. Delicate silver whorls of magic traced through the clear dome that served as the room’s ceiling, resting just above the level of the branches. A narrow wooden ring circled the room, a link between the stone and the magic. Above, a ring of stars shone, the constellation Equinor sparkling in the black sky.

Hallenon shrugged, stepping forward and joining him in appreciating the view. “It is a spell that I often used for protecting my camp while exploring ruins, though on a smaller scale than this. Solas was gracious enough to provide guidance on permanently anchoring the weave of the shield to the walls.”

“By the Void… you say that so casually.” He stepped in front of the elf, catching his gaze. “No. This is a magical work of art, and this room shows a love of your people and the wilds that you should celebrate. I may still know little of the Dalish, but this…” Dorian’s hand swung idly in an aborted gesture to clasp Hallenon’s shoulder. “This is worthy of pride and respect.”

He laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “A love of the open sky and of practicality, certainly, but I am glad to hear it is impressive. It will likely make a similar impression on the Circle mages.”

“Better. You have no idea how limited their use of magic has been, Keeper. It’s brilliant working with you and Solas, who have fewer inhibitions on what an ‘appropriate use of magic’ is.”

A servant arrived with their food then, setting out bowls of thick vegetable soup and plates of bread, fruit, and cheese, along with a bottle of wine, utensils, hand cloths, and two cups. The young elf bashfully gave Hallenon a small smile as she bowed respectfully to the two men.

“Thank you, Mitha.” He said, reaching quickly for several of the small fruits.

“Of course, ha’hren.”

“I won’t make a habit of abandoning my meals dear, I promise.” Dorian added.

Mitha bowed again and left, setting the serving tray beside the door.

“How do you know her name if you don’t have the servants deliver meals?” Dorian asked shrewdly as he pulled out a chair from the table.

Hallenon didn’t answer immediately, as he had hungrily tucked two pieces of fruit into his mouth. He gave Dorian an apologetic look, taking a large clay jug of water from beneath the table and filling the cups.

“Really? Please tell me that you drink wine.”

The elf nodded, shrugging as he downed the glass of water. “Yes, although wine is an uncommon drink among the Dalish. It takes too long to ferment, so what little we have is usually purchased. Elisara has always liked wine; it is a favorite treat. I would rather enjoy it however, not simply swallow it.”

Hallenon broke off a piece of the bread, slid the knife through it, and balanced it across the bowl of soup so that it rested against the broth. “Mitha is from Kirkwall, and she also cleans some of the rooms. I frightened her when she came in for the first time and disrupted me in the middle of casting a spell.” He smiled wryly, “We had a long talk about the Dalish and not being terrified of mages, so yes, I know her name.”

“Hmm.” Dorian drank the water, then tugged the waxed wooden stopper out of the ceramic bottle and filled his cup. He proceeded to cut his piece of cheese into small bits and slice his chunk of bread neatly, nibbling lightly on pieces of fruit and spoonfuls of soup as he did so. He seemed thoughtful, and Hallenon realized that he was apparently quite entertained by watching him eat. He had to admit that seeing Dorian stab tidbits of fruit, bread, and cheese with refined, graceful movements was fascinating as well. That explains why Mitha brought forks, at least.

Hallenon polished off two more cups of water and more than half of his meal in quick, efficient movements. The food was spiced it more heavily than he would have expected, which he would bet was Dorian’s preference. It was good though, not overwhelming.

 

Dorian reached over and filled Hallenon’s empty cup with wine. It was a simple red, the flavor strong and slightly woody, and he hoped that Hallenon enjoyed it.

“This is nicer fare than most at Skyhold eat. You know that, yes?”

“I also know that the Inquisition has a large supply of spices that the Fereldans won’t touch, and that we received a sizeable gift of cheeses from Queen Anora when she heard that Warden Alistair was here,” he retorted sharply, which earned him an odd look. “I’ve often found that dishes here are much milder than in the Imperium, and I prefer a bit more variety than we get while hunting demons.”

“Why were you in such a foul mood this afternoon?” Hallenon countered. “It did not seem solely because of your failed research.”

“Ah. Again, straight to the point.”

“I often find it simpler, and I prefer it.” Hallenon raised an eyebrow at him, eating his last piece of fruit.

“Damn, I hope I’m wrong about you,” Dorian muttered under his breath, sending an odd look flickering across Hallenon’s face. He tapped one finger idly on the table as he considered what to say.

“I saw you and Elisara together in the garden this morning, cozy on a bench and having what appeared to be an intimate conversation.” He took another drink of his wine. I am _not_ going to hurt Elli over a crush, he thought, and I won’t let him hurt her either. Dorian narrowed his eyes at the elf.

“Yet you kissed me this afternoon, and continue this delightful banter with me. Flirting is marvelous fun if no one gets hurt, but there’s a limit. I won’t see Elli toyed with by anyone, and I would rather set my hair on fire than deliberately cause her pain.” He huffed out a breath, glaring fiercely at his wine, and at Hallenon.

Hallenon’s mouth was slightly open in shock, stunned. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Dorian, I went to Elisara for advice about you.” He paused a moment, watching him. “I have loved her my entire life, and would trust her with my very spirit, but we have never been lovers. She is my sister, in every sense save the simplest.” Hallenon’s voice was earnest and sincere, deep brown eyes holding his as the information registered. A warm, gentle smile spread across his face. “Your integrity does you great credit, as does your passion.”

“I… goodness.” He could tell that his face was red, and his pulse quickened at the riot of emotions he was dealing with. “You asked her about…” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Hallenon’s gaze. “... your sister?” Taking a quick breath, he gave himself a mental shake and regained his composure. “That places things in a rather different light, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does.” Hallenon glanced down as he took another drink of wine, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Why did you ask her about me?” Maker only knew what he would say.

“Because you are a brilliant, attractive, fascinating person. Because I find myself constantly distracted by your presence.” His voice was husky as he met Dorian’s eyes again. “And because you kissed me this morning.”

He swiftly leaned across the table, hands framing Hallenon’s face. The elf caught the wine bottle as his elbow knocked it over, and then everything was warm lips and strong fingers. One of them groaned softly as their mouths met, his kiss hungry and confident. He shifted, deepening the kiss, and Hallenon let him. Beneath his fingers Hallenon’s pulse was pounding, and it sent a thrill of desire through him.

After a moment he pulled away, breaking the kiss. Hallenon grabbed his wrist, following the movement and kissing him swift and hard, then pulling away again. Their eyes locked.

“ _Now_ I’ve kissed you.” Dorian’s voice was husky but playful as he sat back, and Hallenon reluctantly let go of him.

The elf slowly let out a long breath. “Oh, this morning counts as well, trust me.”

Smiling, Dorian grabbed the wine bottle below Hallenon’s idle hand and refilled their cups. Hallenon laughed softly. Holding his up with a dramatic gesture, he proposed a toast - “Here’s to ‘figuring each other out,’ one amazing day at a time.”

“Most definitely.” The clay cups made an earthy clink, and they drank. “And to good advice,” Hallenon added.

Dorian made an appreciative humming sound and drank again. “I could listen to you all day Hallenon, your voice is like…” He tilted his head back in thought. “It makes me think of chocolate truffles, but you’ve probably never had one. Smooth, rich, a sweet, delicious treat that you let melt in your mouth, savoring every bite.” The elf ducked his head and smiled at the compliment, but he couldn’t tell if Hallenon was blushing, between his dark skin and the low light in the mage’s room.

“Hmm, I suppose this cheese is rather similar, except for the sweet, melting part.” He took a piece from Dorian’s plate, having already eaten all of his.

“Impertinent thief.” The smile on his lips took the sting out of the comment. “It is good though, one of my favorites.”

His eyes narrowed speculatively. “Should I ask what advice Elisara gave you? I won’t pry if you don’t wish me to, Hallenon.”

“Between the two of us, please call me Hallen. It has always felt less formal, much as I have noticed that you often shorten the Inquisitor’s sal’melin as well.”

“You mean Elli? What did you call her name?”

“A sal’melin is just our word for your personal name, the name you are called.”

“Ah. What did you call me earlier, when you were admiring my sparkling good looks?”

The corner of Hallen’s mouth turned up in a crooked smile as he took another piece of cheese. “A dahabana. Crows, ravens and similar birds. Crafty, gorgeous black feathers, and a love of shiny things… sound familiar?”

“They eat corpses!”

“And you practice necromancy.”

“Alright, you win.” He glanced down as another piece of cheese disappeared from his plate, and pushed it toward Hallen. “You still didn’t answer my question. Do you not wish to tell me?”

Hallen rolled a piece of bread between his fingers as he thought for a long moment. Dorian watched his movements, idly enjoying his presence.

“She told me not to lie to myself about how I feel.”

Surprise flashed across Dorian’s face, fading to awe. “She told you…” His voice caught in his throat, mind flashing back to the recent meeting with his father. To telling her about the brutal arguments, and the blood magic ritual he had escaped. Blood magic that would have made his life a living lie. “That was Elli’s advice to you? About me?” He felt overwhelmed.

“Simple but powerful. There was more, but--”

Dorian stopped him with a touch of his hand, meeting his eyes squarely. “She is absolutely, profoundly correct. Living a lie… it festers inside you, like poison. You have to fight for what's in your heart."

Hallen dropped the flattened bit of bread and took hold of Dorian’s hand. It was smooth and strong, gripping his with assurance. “Good. Lies between us are unproductive.” He paused, as if considering what he intended to say.

He brushed his thumb slowly across Dorian’s knuckles. “Will you tell me why her advice struck you so deeply? It clearly means a lot to you as well.”

A dark shadow passed over his face, pain and regret flashing in his eyes. Dorian took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh. Despite the intimacy of the topic, it truly made perfect sense to tell Hallen what had befallen him. He wanted to tell him everything, to lay his soul bare before him, free of the bluster and charm, but he was afraid of what might happen if he did. His heart ached, and he feared the other man’s acceptance almost as much as rejection. Or… was he simply lying to himself to avoid the pain?

Searching Hallen’s patient, curious brown eyes in the mix of starlight and firelight, feeling his weather-roughened fingers gripping his own, sharing a meal in his oddly Dalish room… he found that he wanted to stay. He felt acutely vulnerable at that moment, and took in a shaky breath. Just be honest with yourself, he thought. Don’t jump off a cliff just yet, Pavus.

“It is particularly important because,” he cleared his throat, staring over the elf’s shoulder into the wild, bushy corner of the room, “because my father tried to use blood magic to forcibly change who I am.” His voice cracked on the words, the pain and betrayal forever raw. “To change me so that would marry and sire perfect little children to carry on his fucking legacy.” Hallen’s fingers tightened on his, and he saw empathy in his eyes. He understood somehow, and the cold fury that burned there as well was oddly comforting. There was so much strength in him.

Dorian tugged his hand free of Hallen’s, trying to regain his composure yet again. He brushed an invisible crumb from his sleeve, walls falling carefully back into place. “There. Now you know the deep, dark secret of the evil Tevinter mage.” His words were clipped, deliberately sharp. “I don’t even presume to understand how we are discussing this given the short time we’ve known each other.”

“I apologize for bringing up a dark memory, but I would not have you regret sharing it with me, Dorian.” Hallen’s words were firm, but kind. “I have surprised myself in how much I have told you today as well.” That earned him a brief, cheeky smile that he knew didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hallen stood up and picked up one of the journals from the bookshelf. “Here.” He tossed it to him. “Read the first few pages while I tidy up the dishes.”

Catching the book, Dorian summoned a small magelight with an elegant twist of his wrist. He cautiously began reading, determined to leave if the man had just thrown him anything else personal. He couldn’t deal with much more today. His eyes flicked quickly over the first page as Hallen retrieved the serving tray.

“These are your notes on auras? I spoke briefly with Fiona about learning to see them, but haven’t yet tried to do so.”

“Yes, those are recent notes based upon my own conversations with her, which included methods to teach mages like yourself.” Saving the pile of miscellaneous cheese and bread on one plate, Hallen gathered everything else together and sat the tray just inside the door.

Dorian thumbed through the pages, noting that it was already half full. “This is more than just a few notes, Hallen.”

“Read the first few pages, and then we can talk, if you wish.”

He narrowed his eyes at the elven mage, considering leaving. It was rather late, and their conversations kept fluctuating between profound and extremely personal. Despite how unsettled he was from talking about his father, he had been thoroughly enjoying himself. Shifting uncertainly in the chair, he continued reading.

 

> _\--Four primary characteristics of an aura: Strength, Activity, Type, Volatility_  
>  _ Strength represents the current minimum level of power the mage can wield._  
>  _ Activity indicates connections to any spells being cast or directly maintained by the caster._  
>  _ Type reveals the schools of magic being wielded by those spells, in addition to the schools favored by the caster, either innately or through preference._  
>  _ Volatility reflects the amount of control the caster typically exerts over both their magic and their aura._

Hallen lay down beside the tree with a rolled blanket under his head, and Dorian shook his head in amused appreciation. I may never truly understand the Dalish, he thought, but he is incredible. Starlight flooded in through the transparent shield, highlighting the elf’s strong features.

 

> _\--Sensing, interpreting, and manipulating auras are three different skills, and an aura is separate from but linked to the energy of an active spell itself. All mages can sense spells, as can those with Templar training, including Seekers. Dwarves seem to sense only lyrium itself, not the spells or auras of mages._  
>  _ Sensing an aura is the simplest. Elven mages, and possibly ‘human’ mages with elven blood, can innately sense their own aura and those of other mages. To my knowledge, human mages simply cannot sense auras without further training, and nothing is currently known regarding Qunari mages._  
>  _ Interpreting auras accurately is a skill gained with experience and communication with other mages. Sensing the shifting colors, patterns, and textures of an aura is not a simple task, even for a highly skilled mage. A thorough understanding may also take more time than is practical in hostile situations._  
>  _ Manipulating one’s own aura is easier than interpretation, but seems to require near-constant maintenance. Any or all of the four characteristics can be manipulated, to varying degrees of success._

Hmm, there is great potential here for determining the threat of an enemy mage, based on the combined strength and type of magic in their aura, Dorian thought as he read. Even a vague impression is better than nothing.

 

>   _\--For a non-elven mage, learning to sense auras is most simply begun with sensing the aura of the elven mage instructing them. A clearly visible spell such as starlight provides a starting point for tracing the arcane energy actively being wielded back into the aura itself. From this point, the mage can either attempt to similarly sense their own aura, or to sense the instructor’s aura when it is not connected to a visible spell._

He eyed Hallen, wondering what his aura looked like. His handwriting was strong and crisp, but rather narrowly spaced.

 

> _\--Few mages have been seen to learn this skill, as it is neither widely known nor widely discussed. Drawing on the recollections of former Grand Enchanter Fiona provides three examples. The first mage was a male colleague in the Circle at Montsimmard who was approaching fifty years of age. After several weeks of daily practice, he successfully learned to sense auras of others and of himself by tracing back a visible spell._
> 
> _The second was a female student also in the Circle at Montsimmard, eighteen years of age, who was avidly studying the range of magical strength exhibited by mages. She gained the skills to both sense and roughly interpret auras in a few weeks, quietly using these abilities to supplement her more conventional analyses._
> 
> _The third mage was a former apostate who was recruited into the Wardens at twenty-five, having successfully escaped Chantry attention until that point. She voluntarily joined rather than continue living her life hidden and running. Her ability to sense auras independently from a visible spell was reliable after only a few days’ intermittent study while travelling. She progressed to interpreting the primary school of magic in an aura, although with a sharply limited number of mages on which to use this skill. Regrettably, she died in service to the Wardens shortly afterward._

Dorian sat back thoughtfully, idly eating a piece of the smooth cheese. I have an excellent chance at being able to sense auras, at least based on the characteristics of those three mages.

“Very well.” Hallen turned toward him, still sprawled on the floor. “If you will teach me this, then I will officially be indebted to you regarding instruction in an unspecified magical topic of your choice.” He shook and admonishing finger at him. “This is not personal! It has no bearing on today’s events, you sneaky elf.”

“How have I been sneaky? I openly gave you information regarding a topic of interest to you.” Hallen was smiling from his place on the rugs, and he swiveled to sit with one knee up. “You do not even need to frolic in the wilder portion of the room to begin the first lesson. You simply need to inactivate your starlight orb. Auras do give off a very faint light, and it may be easier for you to sense it in relative darkness.”

“Are you teasing me again?” He released the spell for the light he had been using to read. “Mages literally glow?”

“Faintly.”

There was a faint smile on Hallen’s lips as well, which Dorian saw as his eyes adjusted. Hallen’s own eyes reflected back an exotic shimmer, his ability to see in such low lighting clearly marking him as elven. He leaned a few blocks forward and placed his hand on the floor, fingers arched to touch the stone, and tapped twice. A shimmering swirl of what could only be called ‘starlight’ appeared.

“Showoff.” He smirked and stretched his legs out comfortably.

“My aura extends approximately to the center of the swirl at the moment. Look for a faint sapphire light that extends from the spell. It should arc over me in a dome.”

 

They tried this method for a quarter of an hour, with Dorian focusing on the air, the spell, Hallen himself, all to no avail. Neither was easily deterred, and he enjoyed the opportunity to watch Dorian. The human rarely scowled when concentrating, as many did, but his mouth twisted and shifted into a wide variety of enticing curves, accented by the curl of his moustache.

“What if I hold a connection to my mana? I often feel that spellcasting heightens my senses.”

“Logical. It would be an impractical to do so constantly, however.”

Hallen sensed Dorian’s aura shift, tightening slightly but remaining its normal shade of pink and auburn fire. I wonder what that feels like, he thought, to be kissing another mage, touching them intimately when they cast a spell. “Remember that you aren’t just looking for my aura. There is a color, but it is more of a mental impression of the color. It has a tangible feeling in the air because it is a field of energy. A faint hum, ring, or even hiss that your ears can barely detect.”

Dorian slowly turned his head back and forth, intently focused on the air between them. “Describe your own aura more, Hallen.”

“No.”

“No? Why ever not?”

“Because you will start imagining that you sense it if you know what to look for. You should describe what you sense to me.”

Dorian sighed and finished the wine in his cup. “You mentioned being able to feel it. How close do I need to be?”

“Touching the aura,” he responded promptly. “Or within it.”

“Well I’m joining the wild, Dalish part of the room then.” Dorian refilled their cups with the last of the wine, smiling at his hearty laugh.

He turned so that he was facing Dorian as he gracefully joined him on the rug, swallowing hard as the man’s aura swept over him with a metallic ringing sound.

“Before you know it I’ll be climbing trees!” The finely dressed mage quipped lightly, brushing aside a branch.

Gods above, how can he not feel this? Hallen thought. He had become accustomed to actively suppressing his awareness of nearby mages since he had come to Skyhold because the sensation was so noticeable. Is my own aura so much softer than his? The slight shift in tension as Dorian again reached for mana was still noticeable, but less disconcerting than simply sitting within the aura itself.

“Two thoughts.” He said a few minutes later, as Dorian sipped wine. “First, the wine may be dulling your senses, though you have not consumed overmuch.” He rubbed his hands in front of him apprehensively. “Second, I am considering a brief experiment to attempt to make my aura more noticeable.”

“Hmm, getting impatient are we? I’m the blind one here.” Dorian’s voice was light and teasing, in contrast to Hallen’s serious tone. “This amount of wine barely affects me at all, but am starting to sense a faint blue, windy feeling, just here-” his rings reflected the starlight swirl as he waved his hand. “And there might be a lovely swirl of mistiness linking it to your spell. I could truly be imagining it, as you said.”

Hallen’s eyebrows rose in surprise, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. That was exactly what he ought to feel. “Keep your hand where you sense the edge of my aura.” He watched Dorian’s face, his eyes darting around where Hallen’s aura ought to be. His dark eyebrows rose a fraction and his lips parted slightly when Hallen drew in mana, though he sat calmly, giving no outward signal that he had done so.

Dorian watched the connection to the starlight intently. “Hmmm…”

He leaned toward Hallen, and he felt Dorian’s aura curving behind his back like the warmth of a flame.

Then the Dalish Keeper flexed his considerable magical abilities like a muscle, drawing and holding a quarter of his mana, but directing it nowhere.

“Kaffas!” The human’s hand jerked away instinctively. “That’s… Maker, that’s normal? It’s beautiful!”

Dorian reached out to touch the edge of the aura again, and it swirled over his hand like a strong breeze.

“This is why you can feel a spell building up even before it’s cast - it’s this charge, filling your aura!” Dorian was nearly bouncing in excitement.

Hallen caught Dorian’s wrist as he started to grab his shoulder, taking a deep breath and slowly sinking the mana back within himself. It was always an odd sensation, especially with this much, and it was easy to lose control and be forced to direct the energy elsewhere.

Dorian’s eyes were glittering as he watched the aura subside with a dangerous grin. He kissed Hallen’s knuckles, where he still had a firm hold on his wrist. “You, my friend, are a fabulous and audacious teacher. What exactly did you do?”

Hallen laughed softly, and Dorian’s infectious grin spread. “My aura was stronger than normal because I drew in energy for a spell.” He rubbed his temple with his free hand. “For a fairly powerful spell. Ughh, that was uncomfortable.” Noticing Dorian’s pulse pounding under his fingertips, he let go of his wrist.

Dorian caught his hand though, still staring at the faint dome of the aura. “This is brilliant. I know I said this wasn’t personal, but…” He chuckled. “It really could be.”

“Do not get swept away too quickly. You will sense the aura and spells of every mage you see, remember?”

“Of course.”

Dorian’s continued enthusiasm was obvious though, and he found it quite endearing.

“Do you realize how powerful this is? I could wreak havoc in the Magisterium with this. See those power-hungry, ego-obsessed sycophants for what they really are.”

His brow furrowed at the statement, considering the broader implications of human mages sensing the auras of others. He was not a political person, having quietly and stoically dealt with his former Keeper’s manipulative machinations. This placed an extremely powerful tool at Dorian’s disposal, and his stomach twisted in concern.

“Dorian, listen to me.” Worry threaded his voice, filling it with a fierce intensity. He gripped Dorian’s hand, holding his gaze in the faint light. “I had not truly thought through the implications of this skill for someone in a position of power. Even the simple ability to pick out a mage in a crowd is extraordinary. A word to a Templar, to an assassin, a servant’s master, even a bitter rival… and they have no knowledge of their vulnerability.”

“You’re right.” Dorian said immediately, his lips twisting at the bitter truth. “A mage could become a mage killer.”

“Fenedhis, what have I done?” His heart was pounding. “This was a mistake. I should never have shown you.” His voice grew colder, hard. “No more. This is not something I should have trusted you with.” He pulled his hand free from Dorian’s.

“Hallen, stop. No, listen-” He grabbed his arm as Hallen tried to rise. “Listen to me!” They struggled awkwardly for a moment, sitting on the floor.

“I have betrayed my people Dorian! I am their Keeper and I have broken their trust. No, no, I need to find Fiona. This cannot spread.” The cold fury of a winter storm filled him. He broke Dorian’s hold with a sharp sweep of his arm, folding his legs beneath himself and moving to stand. “We are done here. You need to leave.”

Dorian lunged forward and caught Hallen by both shoulders. “I will never use this against your people! I would never do that! It would be betrayal and imprisonment worse than the southern Circles!” Pulled to his feet with him, Dorian’s fingers dug into his bare, solid shoulders.

Hallen hesitated, a spark of doubt amidst the fury and panic. “You say that now, standing here with me. But in Tevinter, surrounded by your beloved magisters? Humans, every one of them thriving on the blood of elven slaves?” It burned, throwing that at Dorian, someone that he had believed was better than the stereotypes. “Will you say the same a decade from now, or will you start throwing rivals to the wolves to gain favor with your betters?”

“Ahh, you judge me for the actions of every depraved slaver and magister in my homeland - That’s original. Not everything from Tevinter is terrible.” The mage’s features were contorted in frustration and passion, his feelings on the matter clear. “Yes! Yes, I would say the same to the entire Magisterium! Yes, I will protect innocent mages a year from now or fifty years from now! Some of us have fought for aeons against exactly this sort of madness. Why do you think that I am here, Hallen?” Dorian shook his shoulders in emphasis, then raised his hands and stepped back, letting him go.

“Why are you here, Dorian?” His question dropped into the silence.

“Because joining the Inquisition was the right thing to do.” He shook his head, letting out a long breath. “Walking away from everything I knew, starting over among people who are terrified of me, disappointing the family that I loved… It hasn’t been easy. But here I can be…” Dorian gestured vaguely at himself. “This is who I am.”

Hallen’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. Mythal protect us, I want to trust him, he thought. Ellie trusts him. Fear of betrayal is a truly bitter enemy.

“Doing the right thing isn’t easy, Hallen, or everyone would do it. Trusting someone that wields the power to destroy you isn’t easy, but we do it every day.” Dorian searched his face.

He had always tried to remain separate from the chaos, impartial and strong. What was Dorian searching for? Acceptance? Forgiveness? He did not know, but they both stood their ground for a moment, wounded and vulnerable.

“It was my responsibility.”

“And now it is mine.” The smooth words held a note of finality, of commitment.

His eyes snapped to Dorian’s, shock at the strength of the statement coursing through him like lightning. So few of the People had been willing to stand beside him when he tried to fight against one Keeper’s corruption, yet the human before him looked as though he would stand unbowed against the most powerful mages in his homeland.

“Every elven mage already has this power, but I haven’t heard of any rogue mage assassins. Well, besides Kirkwall, and those were blood mages. And he was human.” Dorian winced. “That was a poor example. But it’s not the same.”

“No, it is not the same.” He let out a long, slow breath. “There is still a lot to consider.” The incredible weight of the issue still pulled at him, but the fear and anger had faded.

“Think of how much better you’ll understand the dangers with me helping you!”

He sighed wearily. “That is not reassuring, Dorian.”

“You’re right, it’s better.”

“How?”

“Not everything is starlight and flowers, my Dalish friend.” A wry, dangerous grin tugged at Dorian’s lips. “You have to know darkness to value the light.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Shielded](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12178224) by [MyrddinDerwydd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrddinDerwydd/pseuds/MyrddinDerwydd)




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